


fireproof

by fakepunk



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Cats, Daichi is tired, Domestic Fluff, Firefighter!Daichi - Freeform, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Sawamura Daichi, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, alternatively: try not to fall in love with daichi, and they are all idiots, daichi with cats, daichi's squadron consists of the captains, elementary school teacher!suga, kurodai friendship, suga: i can be your angle or yuor devil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24300037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakepunk/pseuds/fakepunk
Summary: Here Daichi is; a heroic firefighter, sitting on his living room floor at an ungodly hour trying to pry a kitten from behind his houseplant. He laughs again, louder and more maniacal this time, before getting on his knees and crawling over to the kitten.Whistles fill the silence as Daichi attempts to entice the kitten. It stares at him, almost judging, but takes a single step closer. The kitten’s eyes dart to the sleeve of Daichi’s sweater. It arches its back and stands predatorily and Daichi has no time to process what’s about to happen before it lunges forward and digs its claws into the back of Daichi’s hand. Daichi yelps but the kitten is unfazed, far too entertained by his sweater. It nips and chews at it and Daichi swiftly unclothes himself without disturbing the cat. He shivers at the lack of warmth and a teasing gust of wind enters through the broken window, tauntingly licking his bare skin. Curse that damn window, it lets the cold in and apparently kittens, too.
Relationships: Sawamura Daichi & Kuroo Tetsurou, Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi
Comments: 25
Kudos: 206
Collections: My favorite haikyuu fics





	fireproof

**Author's Note:**

> writing this channelled something primal within me. in four consecutive days i managed to churn out 14k words of absolute brain rot and i really don’t know how. i think haikyuu has turned me into a fic machine and there’s no way out for me now.
> 
> a couple of comments—for one, i have no fucking clue as to how firefighters actually do their job and how their workplace operates. that aspect of this fic is all bullshitted (as is the entire thing honestly) so please do not berate me for being inaccurate as i wasn’t striving for that. this was also supposed to be a refresher, a short one shot to keep me writing. but it turned into 14k words of mush. take it away from me! lastly, there is a scene where a house fire occurs. i want everyone to be cautious about that because although it is not violently described, it still happens and i don’t want anybody to be triggered by it without warning. that portion begins at the phrase “They reach the site in the estimated time of arrival,” and ends at “At the end of his impulsive feat, Daichi is met with his squadron.”
> 
> with my haikyuu fics, my wonderful beta, kam, will always be mentioned! she betas all my hq writing and i appreciate her so much for it. kam cameos (kameos, hehehe) will always appear in the notes. from now on i will be including a comment kam has made in these notes that summarizes the fic/chapter.
> 
> today’s kameo: error 404 daichi brain not found
> 
> the title is from one direction’s “fireproof.”
> 
> enjoy! <3

The balcony window of Sawamura Daichi’s new apartment is broken. No matter how hard he pushes, and as a firefighter his arms are _strong_ , the window won’t shut. Fortunately the open gap is small, merely large enough to stick an arm through.

Due to the mishap, perpetual breezes find themselves wafting through the crack in the window. It leaves his apartment cold, a jarring shift when coming home from a workplace on fire. Daichi doesn’t necessarily mind, he just has to wear more layers than preferred. Today his sweater is thick, knitted fondly by his grandmother with colourful wool. His given name in kanji is embroidered brightly on the back of the sweater with a teddy bear emblazoned on the front. It’s embarrassing but it keeps him warm, so he wears it.

It has only been a month since he moved in and a week since he unpacked his last box. In it were only a couple of old photographs of his parents and his younger brother and sister but they were the last remnants of his previous apartment that were hidden. They are now framed proudly on the walls of his bedroom.

He passes by them when walking into the living room with a tired yawn. It’s awfully late and he had just woken up from a poorly timed nap, the stitching of his sweater imprinted onto the skin of his cheek. His back aches from the uncomfortable position he had dozed off in and his throat is dry, thirsty for coffee and perhaps a sip of water. One step leads him into his kitchenette which is just as dark as the rest of his apartment. He hasn’t bothered to switch on any lights but with the glorious full moon illuminating his flat, he doesn’t have to.

Blindly, Daichi rummages through the kitchen cabinets and grabs a tin of ground coffee along with a jar of sugar. As if on autopilot, he brews himself a steaming cup of coffee without looking at the coffee machine once. He only blinks his eyes open after he’s had a long swig.

The neon of the electronic clock embedded into the dashboard of the oven glares at him: four thirty-six in the morning. He has around an hour until he has to go to work.

For now Daichi drinks, savouring the coffee as it buzzes him to life like gasoline to a car. It’s rich and sweet and just a tad creamy just how he likes it. He almost spills it all when he hears a noise _thud_ from behind him. With wide eyes, he spins on his heel and sets the mug down on the counter to prevent any further spillage. He doesn’t ask if anyone’s there because that’s just useless so he grabs the nearest thing to him, a clean pan drying in the sink, and wields it cautiously as he approaches the source of the sound. The wooden floorboards creak as he steps, stifling when he reaches the carpet decorating his living room floor. His knuckles are white around the handle of the pan and his breathing is steady; this is nothing compared to the dangers he faces at work but he hasn’t finished his coffee yet so he just wants to get this over with. Below him something moves, a white dot skittering behind the monstera plant he has potted by the couch. In front of the monstera is a stack of fallen books. He quickly glances at the coffee table where the books should be—that explains the thud. Slowly, Daichi follows the white dot behind the monstera and crouches before it. He has to squint to see it: a kitten, terrified, more than he is.

His shoulders slump and he puts the pan down with an exasperated laugh. He moves the potted plant aside but the kitten stubbornly shifts with it. Here Daichi is; a heroic firefighter, sitting on his living room floor at an ungodly hour trying to pry a kitten from behind his houseplant. He laughs again, louder and more maniacal this time, before getting on his knees and crawling over to the kitten.

Whistles fill the silence as Daichi attempts to entice the kitten. It stares at him, almost judging, but takes a single step closer. The kitten’s eyes dart to the sleeve of Daichi’s sweater. It arches its back and stands predatorily and Daichi has no time to process what’s about to happen before it lunges forward and digs its claws into the back of Daichi’s hand. Daichi yelps but the kitten is unfazed, far too entertained by his sweater. It nips and chews at it and Daichi swiftly unclothes himself without disturbing the cat. He shivers at the lack of warmth and a teasing gust of wind enters through the broken window, tauntingly licking his bare skin. Curse that damn window, it lets the cold in and apparently kittens, too.

Droplets of blood trickle down the back of his hand. He swears under his breath and wipes it against his sweatpants that are conveniently dark enough for a stain not to appear. The kitten bites and purrs while playing with his sweater, its fear from before completely alleviated. Daichi hums and scoops up the sweater and the kitten, cradling the bundle in his arms while returning to the kitchen to finish his coffee.

Realization hits him while he washes his mug: this cat must be thirsty and hungry. He has no clue where it came from but that doesn’t matter now, it’s in his custody meaning he must care for it until further notice. His eyes flicker from the kitten, tangled in his sweater on the counter, to the clock. Only ten minutes have passed—Daichi laughs, for what feels like the umpteenth time, at how much has happened in such a little amount of time.

Grocery stores open at seven. Work starts at six. Daichi groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Five years is how long Daichi has been a firefighter. In those five years, he has experienced more danger and adrenaline than a twenty-seven-year-old should. And in those five years, not once has he taken a day off on his own volition. Sure, Daichi has had sick days because they’re inevitable. But he’d only stay home for one day before getting back to his feet and acting like he didn’t just have a fever.

Daichi’s chest bubbles with guilt as he dials the chief’s number. “Ukai-sensei,” he greets when the call succeeds.

“Sawamura-san. Good morning.” Ukai sounds exhausted as per usual.

“Good morning. I...” Daichi pauses, despising having to say this, “have a problem.”

A staticky laugh bellows from the speaker. “That’s surprising.”

Daichi would take the compliment if he weren’t so dreadful. “I found a cat. I don’t know where it came from myself but I’m guessing it crawled through my window. I live on the tenth floor of the building so it’s still strange. But I don’t have cat food and grocery stores open at seven and—”

Ukai interrupts him. “Sawamura, take the day off. God knows you need it. Do you forget we have an entire squadron of elite firefighters that can operate just fine without you?”

Daichi inhales, feeling like that was a jab at his saviour complex. It was, and it was rightful. “Okay. Thank you. I will be in tomorrow, I just need food for this cat.”

“Alright, Sawamura-san.”

Daichi hangs up but the guilt stays. He takes one look at the kitten, staring up at him with its big brown eyes, and sighs, deciding that maybe, just _maybe,_ this day off is worth it.

***

There are more types of cat food than Daichi had expected. At first he believes that there are only two, wet stuff in cans and kibble in bags. He looks closer at the shelf of food, noticing different textures and flavours and brands and he has to back away before a headache forms. He backs away partly because of that and partly because the kitten, tucked in his jacket, bites him.

 _“Thanks.”_ Daichi winces, glancing down at the cat whose head is poking out of the collar of his coat. It rubs its head against Daichi’s chin.

A grocery clerk, a poor, tired grocery clerk, turns to look at Daichi, assuming that the thanks was directed at him. He furrows his brows and adjusts his glasses. “You’re... welcome.”

Daichi offers a sheepish look; the clerk eyes the kitten. The grocery clerk opens his mouth to say something but later leaves. Maybe he’s just allergic to cats. After recovering from that awkward interaction, Daichi resumes the hunt. He stupidly asks the cat which food it likes and it expectedly responds with a _meow_. Daichi wants to punch himself for acting so delusional. _This is what happens when I don’t go to work,_ he thinks. _I do not need therapy_.

It takes him a solid fifteen minutes of contemplation to settle on a giant bag of dry cat food and five cans of wet cat food, all in various flavours and brands. The kitten looks satisfied but Daichi’s bank account isn’t. When he lines up to pay, he only gets one strange look.

At home, he and the kitten run through an experiment. In several bowls, with each brand labelled on a strip of tape, there is a spoonful of cat food. Daichi lines them up along the tile flooring of his kitchen and sits across it, setting the cat down for it to choose. It nears the first bowl, wet food flavoured like beef, and sniffs. The kitten hisses and Daichi throws out the rest of the can. It does the same for the rest of the wet food and once it reaches the kibble it eats, chowing down happily. Daichi sighs in relief, that huge bag of cat food will not go to waste.

He scoops more of the kibble into the bowl and steps over to the closet by the front door while the cat eats. He scavenges through the closet until he finds rolls of old newspapers. He is unsure of how the cat will use the toilet without a litter box so he coats the entire floor of the foyer, the kitchen, and the living room in sheets of newspaper. Before he forgets, he blocks the broken balcony window with heaps of newspaper and duct tape. This isn’t how Daichi thought he’d spend his day off.

Half an hour passes and his apartment resembles a room in the middle of a paint job. The kitten had followed him with every newspaper he placed down, trailing at his feet curiously. He luckily didn’t lose the cat during the process as it found a throne in the couch, sitting there like a king watching his servant. With a weary groan, Daichi flops onto the couch beside the kitten. He stares at the state of his apartment and wonders if he’s going too overboard, for the kitten is small, just slightly bigger than his hand, and it can’t possibly cause too much of a ruckus. But then again, this cat did sneak in through his apartment window on the tenth floor.

The first time Daichi gets a good, thorough look at the kitten is when it climbs up his stomach and curls into a ball atop his chest. Before this, it had been too dark and he was in too much of a hurry to retrieve its necessities. The kitten’s pelt is mostly white aside from its grey ears. Its brown eyes are shut and Daichi doesn’t blame it.

“You need a name,” Daichi mumbles as he pets it, scratching behind its ears. The kitten purrs contently. Daichi rests his head against a pillow and searches his apartment for inspiration. For one, he can’t look anywhere and not see newspapers. “Shinbun. I’m calling you that, okay?” Shinbun stirs and meows, Daichi taking that as a sign of agreement.

Never in his life has Daichi owned a pet. The Sawamuras had enough going on with three children for that. Daichi, being eight years older than his sister, Sayuri, and ten years older than his brother, Hideo, certainly agreed with his parents’ wishes. His siblings were enough of a hassle to handle, but frankly their company was pleasant, past all the squabbling. He learned a great deal of responsibility when taking care of them, having to babysit when his parents were at work. He learned to cook for them and ensured they rested. He took them to the park to find bugs, Sayuri having an obsession with them, and taught them volleyball when he used to play. He loved them and he still does.

Now, a kitten is more confusing than a pair of siblings. Daichi knows how to braid hair and how to extinguish house fires but he hasn’t got a clue about taking care of cats. Feeding them is one thing but managing them is another. Shinbun awakens from its short nap and blinks at Daichi as if it knew it was the subject of Daichi’s crisis.

“Do you want to play? Or do you just want to sleep again?” he asks, his voice ascending an octave. Shinbun hops off of Daichi’s chest and finds entertainment in the tassels on one of the throw pillows, prompting him to spark an idea. While Shinbun is playing, Daichi quickly runs to his room and scours his cabinets for a ball of yarn. The yarn, kindly gifted to him by his grandmother, is bright orange. It’s not too thick or too thin, but it is soft. He returns to the living room, Shinbun still attacking the pillow, and sits on the floor by the coffee table. He keeps an eye on Shinbun, mentally reminding himself to buy a new pillow the next time he’s out, and bunches a long string of yarn together until it forms a bushel. He knots it tightly then pulls, ripping it from the rest of the yarn with his bare hands. Shinbun’s gaze averts from the pillow and trails down to the newfound toy Daichi made.

Just like last night with the sleeve of his wool sweater, Shinbun rears its haunches and sears a hole into its target. Daichi smirks and rises to his feet, dangling the toy in the air by the string of yarn it’s attached to. Shinbun pounces and Daichi scrambles, leading the kitten into his bedroom where the floor is free of crumpled newspapers. Shinbun follows him eagerly and hops, impressively high, onto his bed. Daichi snickers and traces random lines along his bedsheets with the toy, Shinbun cheerfully running after it.

“You’re feisty for such a little thing, aren’t you, Shin-chan?” Daichi coos, dropping the toy. Shinbun growls before leaping onto it and tangling itself up, rolling around the bed. Daichi can’t help but chuckle at the sight, how much fun this kitten is having with such a simple object. To join the fun, Daichi stealthily snatches the toy away and replaces it with his hands, patting them across the bed for Shinbun to follow. He swipes his hands left and right and Shinbun chases him as he moves, only sometimes scratching him. Shinbun keeps growling and Daichi keeps laughing and Daichi thinks, confidently now, that this day off is definitely worth it.

They play for the next hour, an hour that passes Daichi by in a haze. He only notices the time when Shinbun falls asleep on his pillow, his heart aching from the adorable sight and his stomach grumbling—Daichi hasn’t even had breakfast yet. After assuring Shinbun’s comfort and slumber, Daichi flees to the kitchen to cook himself a meal.

Newspaper crackles underneath his feet when he steps outside his bedroom. He laughs, having been consumed by insane laughter lately, and sighs as he goes through his fridge for milk and eggs. He pops two pieces of bread into the toaster and sets a pan onto the stove. His phone rings and he nearly drops the eggs when he sees the contact name.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” Daichi says begrudgingly, holding his phone with his shoulder.

“Sawa-kun! You didn’t tell me you had a cat!” Kuroo Tetsurou: gigantic pain in the ass and his unfortunate best friend.

“Ukai...”

“Don’t blame him! _You_ took a _day off,_ of course we were curious. Everybody came up with theories and Ukai told us the truth so we would shut up.”

Daichi groans, but fails to suppress a smile. “You sound so happy about it.”

“Of course I do! It’s a national holiday, Sawamura-Daichi- _finally_ -takes-a-well-earned-day-off day! I don’t know how you do it, working twenty-four-seven and all.”

“Well... I rest for at least five hours a day, I eat a healthy breakfast, I go to work and I do my job well—”

Tetsurou’s irritated cackle rings through the call. “You’re fucking annoying. Can’t you just laugh at a joke, huh? Do you know how? Does Sawamura Daichi know how to have fun?”

Shinbun and their short time together pops into Daichi’s mind the instant Tetsurou asks him that question. He careens his head towards his opened bedroom door and gets a glimpse of Shinbun, sleeping peacefully on his pillow. Daichi never promised anyone that he wouldn’t get attached to this cat and he’s thankful he didn’t. “I’ve had fun. I can laugh.”

“Then do it now!”

Daichi clicks his tongue. “Ha ha.”

“I hate you, I really do. I have to go do _your_ job now because you ain’t here to do it—”

_“Bastard!”_

“—So help me out by taking care of yourself at home, okay? Promise me you’ll get some sleep. Everybody and their moms know you need it. I want pictures of the cat, by the way.” _Damn Tetsurou and his kind heart_.

“I’ll try. Thanks for checking in.”

“Always. I help people on and off the job!”

Tetsurou ends the call and Daichi does indeed send him pictures of Shinbun once he’s finished eating breakfast. He plays with Shinbun some more once it has woken up and he researches tips and tricks on kitten care. His day is unbelievably long, having no clue how to actually do things when given free time. He paces and watches television and pets Shinbun and eats lunch then paces again. Sometime in the evening after dinner, he ends up falling asleep on the couch with Shinbun on his stomach, keeping Tetsurou’s promise.

***

Night has fallen by the time Daichi jolts awake. Shinbun awakens at the sudden movement, perking its head up to look at Daichi. Daichi shrugs and carefully sits up, lifting Shinbun onto his shoulder. They both stand still for a moment before a sob, loud and painful, echoes from behind the neighbouring wall.

“Think it’s a ghost, Shin-chan?” Daichi jokes, chuckling to himself. His laughter fizzles as the wail grows louder, now concerning Daichi. Someone, presumably his neighbour, blows their nose and then starts crying all over again. Shinbun mewls and Daichi nods, plucking it up delicately and setting it down onto the couch. “Stay put. I’m going to make sure the neighbour isn’t dying.” So much for taking a break from his job.

Daichi dons another one of his grandmother’s sweaters, a more subtle one this time. It’s a warm auburn—a colour Sayuri had said looked nice on him—with black and white speckles. The sweater is overtly homemade but it keeps him cozy, he just hopes it doesn’t make him look stupid in front of his neighbour.

Padding over the newspaper floor, Daichi makes his way to the front door. He makes sure to lock it when he leaves. His neighbour’s weeps can still be heard when he exits his apartment. The worry over his sweater is long forgotten by then, it being replaced by solicitude for his neighbour.

He knocks on the neighbour’s door once. “Hello?” Daichi asks. “Is everything okay in there?”

The crying stops abruptly and suddenly all is quiet. It’s much eerier now. Just as Daichi is about to his mouth again to speak, looking for a sign of life, the door swings open. He is met with a man around his age, though a smidge shorter than he is, with soft grey hair and bleary, tear-soaked brown eyes. His lips tremble and his shoulders droop and behind him Daichi can spot small little dots of neutral colours zipping around. Daichi refrains from touching him and instead asks, “Are you safe?”

“Wh—” the man bristles and furrows his brows, whipping his head around. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Daichi gulps. “I thought someone was dying.”

“Rude! I was just crying, that’s all.” The man rubs his eyes and straightens his posture, placing his hands on his hips. He looks Daichi up and down and Daichi’s anxiety about the sweater returns just as quickly as it had disappeared.

“Yeah, I heard. I just wanted to check if you were okay. It’s very late,” Daichi says, clearing his throat. He pulls at his collar with his pointer finger and offers a gentle smile.

“Hah! You’re too kind. You aren’t a cop, are you?”

“What? No.”

“Good!” The man’s eyes are still bloodshot and his voice is still nasally, nose stuffy with snot, but everything about his demeanour contradicts the sadness that _should_ be there. He looks... fine, _chipper,_ even. If Daichi hadn’t heard the crying and the man’s face was a little more cleaned up, he wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong.

Daichi folds his arms over his chest and raises a brow, still unsatisfied. “I have to ask, why were you crying? I just want to know if you’re okay.”

“I—” the man cuts himself off when one of the dots whizzes past him and almost past Daichi. He bends forward and picks the dot, a _kitten,_ up. _Wait a minute._ “Can you come in? I can’t have another one of them escaping. Never again!”

Daichi simply nods and steps into his neighbour’s apartment, curious about this eccentric man. His apartment is just as peculiar as its owner: countless photos and paintings, seemingly premature ones, are hung up along the pale blue walls of the room; trinkets of all sizes are peppered across the man’s furniture, consisting of things such as knitted toys or clay animals; it’s quaint and it’s strange, but at least the balcony window is fixed.

“So basically, I assume yesterday before work,” the man starts when Daichi leans against the front door, “one of these little rascals escaped.” Four kittens are perched in his arms. His eyes appear more soothed and under his left eye, just above his cheekbone, is a mole. Daichi blinks at the observation. “It had to be sometime in the morning because all five of them were here when I went to sleep the night before. I had to go to work quickly and I spend most of my days there—” Daichi sure knows how that feels, “—because once school ended I had to stay in with the kids whose parents pick them up late and then when I got home I had papers to mark.” _He’s a teacher,_ Daichi pieces together. _That’s endearing._ “I fell asleep and woke up just a bit ago and that’s when I noticed she was gone! She’s so small and I saw one of my windows open and _oh my god,_ she’s _dead!_ She’s fucking dead and it’s my fault!”

Daichi reaches forward as the man collapses, catching him in his arms and pulling him into an embrace. The man wheezes and sobs into his shoulder. Daichi remembers Shinbun, the time he found it— _her,_ if his prediction is correct—and has to ask, “What does she look like?”

“What?” the man huffs, pulling back to look up at Daichi. Their faces are inches apart. “She was small and white with the cutest little grey ears and—”

“One moment,” Daichi blurts out, peeling himself from his neighbour. His neighbour stands there as Daichi runs back to his apartment.

“Shin-chan! _Pspspsps,_ Shinbun!” Daichi calls, snapping his fingers and hovering around the room. Shinbun slides off the couch, just where he had left her, and scampers over to him. Daichi picks her up and returns to his neighbour’s domain.

His neighbour allows him inside and Daichi holds Shinbun up like a trophy. “Is this her?”

 _“Holy fucking shit,”_ his neighbour practically yells, taking the kitten from him and hugging her to his chest. “You—how?” he blubbers, looking up at him with starry eyes. Daichi blushes under the pressure.

“I was awake and she startled me very early. Knocked down a couple of books. I guess she found her way into my apartment from the balcony, my window’s broken so she probably crept in—”

A bow, fast enough to give whiplash, refrains Daichi from speaking. His neighbour stands up straight once again after his respectful gesture and says, “How can I ever repay you? I seriously thought she _died_ and now you give her back to me like an angel! You saved her life!”

The blush on Daichi’s cheeks deepens. “It’s nothing, really. I mean, I wouldn’t mind occasionally visiting her, of course _only_ if you’d let me. I’ve grown a little attached.” Shinbun meows loudly and waves a paw at Daichi. “I bought a huge bag of food for her because I didn’t know what kind she liked so I could also give you that—”

“No! Keep it. It’ll give you a reason to come see me—err, _her.”_

Daichi blinks, but doesn’t second guess it. “Okay. You’re alright now?”

“More than! I’m Sugawara Koushi, by the way. Can’t believe I haven’t introduced myself to my neighbour.”

“Sugawara Koushi,” Daichi mutters, testing the name. “Sawamura Daichi. It was nice meeting you, Sugawara-san. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“It’s just Suga. Sugawara-san’s my dad, and I’m not that old yet.”

That elicits a laugh from Daichi, warm and deep. “Okay, Suga. Good night.” They part ways with a wave and Daichi repeats his nickname, quietly to himself in the empty hallway, liking the way it sounds on his tongue.

***

In the kitchen of the fire station, the squadron eats lunch. They sit around a table, one composed of two foldable tables pushed together, and discuss whatever’s on their minds while they eat. Their squadron is interesting, to say the least, a group of seven distinctly different men with one thing in common: bravery.

Ushijima Wakatoshi, debatably the most normal of the bunch, sits primly by Daichi, eating his lunch quietly. He only speaks up when spoken to. Tetsurou chats loudly with Bokuto Koutarou, a charismatic man with silver and black hair as wild as his personality. Beside Koutarou is Terushima Yuuji, the youngest and the rowdiest of them all, laughing at something Tetsurou had said. Somehow, he’s also one of the smartest. Kita Shinsuke eats as quietly as Wakatoshi does but is unafraid to interject whenever Tetsurou, Koutarou, or Yuuji says something stupid. Right now, he’s berating Koutarou. Oikawa Tooru, a brilliant yet pompous man, agrees with Shinsuke but is quickly shut down by him. Daichi shakes his head fondly and eats his lunch, watching the chaos of his squadron unfold.

“Daicchan!” Koutarou calls after Shinsuke quits scolding him. “Kuroo told me you got a cat!”

Daichi perks his head up, already missing Shinbun. It’s only been a week. “Not anymore. I returned her to her owner a couple of days ago.”

“Aw, that’s not fair! I didn’t even get to meet her,” Tetsurou says, pouting.

“You should’ve kept her!” Koutarou chirps.

“I don’t think owning a pet works well with this job,” Yuuji hums, and Daichi is about to agree, “but you should’ve kept her anyway.” Yuuji bumps fists with Koutarou and Tetsurou snickers. Shinsuke sighs and gives up, and so does Daichi.

“Cats are like kids. I had to _beg_ Iwa-chan for him to let us get Sakura-chan,” adds Tooru, waving a slice of milk bread in the air as he talks. “Sawa-chan could not have handled one. Especially when he overworks himself like a mule.”

Daichi furrows his brows, “I do not—”

“You do,” everyone, including Wakatoshi, drones in unison.

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Daichi searches for a retort but later shuts up and accepts defeat.

When they finish lunch, each one of them departs to their own assigned tasks. It’s not every day that they’re on the field, dashing through the streets on a fire truck or dousing a burning building in gallons of water. The downtime is relieving to Daichi, knowing that people are safe, but he’s always alert. Shinsuke takes the liberty of cleaning the bathrooms, him having a fixation on tidying things up. It’s charming. Tooru takes inventory on all their supplies, counting hoses and items in first aid kits and anything else that needs double-checking. Wakatoshi and Tetsurou bring in a new shipment of equipment while Chief Ukai signs papers for the delivery. Daichi helps Koutarou and Yuuji replace tires on one of the trucks.

Evening is when they get a call.

“We’ve got a 961, fortunately,” Daichi monotonously states to the squadron while equipping his gear. “Building went up in flames five minutes ago. ETA five minutes. Ambulances and police are already there.”

They reach the site in the estimated time of arrival. It’s a small house, the frame of it still intact. Fire almost completely engulfs the building, devouring wood and brick. The hues of the flames rival the sunset, threatening it. An ambulance is parked across the street, paramedics tending a family of three: a husband and wife and their son who couldn’t possibly be older than six. Police cars surround the scene.

Wakatoshi and Koutarou attach a hose to the nearest fire hydrant and unroll it until they stand at the perimeter of the house. Tetsurou walks the premises and observes the stability of the building, pinpointing the most vulnerable parts of the house to prevent any subsiding. With a fire extinguisher, Yuuji snuffs out the surrounding flames that have spread from its hub. White foam envelops the picket fence nearest to the house along with foliage that has fallen victim to the damage. Tooru and Shinsuke dispatch with the police officers and Daichi approaches the family that has lost their home.

Daichi doesn’t even get the chance to speak with the family before the son runs up to him with fat tears brimming his eyes. “My cat’s still in there! In the living room! He didn’t want to get out!” he cries, before his mother picks him up.

Daichi purses his lips and turns towards the house. “Where is the living room?”

“On the left of the foyer,” the father says, hesitantly. The portion of the house where he has indicated is the least tainted by fire. The rest of the team has already begun dousing the house in water, creating a safe pathway for Daichi to enter.

Returning to his team, Daichi makes an announcement. “There is still an animal in there. Potentially alive, in the southeast part of the house.”

Tetsurou places a hand on Daichi’s shoulder and squeezes it, firmly, as if to stop him. “It’s too dangerous. The boys are working on the fire but it’s still too risky.”

“I signed up for this,” Daichi says, brushing Tetsurou’s hand aside. “I know the dangers of my job and I’m willing to take the risk. If there is something alive in there, I will make sure it stays that way.”

The mask has never been comfortable. It compresses his face and alters his breathing but it keeps him alive. Daichi squints through the plastic of the mask and enters the building vigilantly. Wallpaper that should plaster the foyer has been eaten up by the fire, leaving the charred wood beneath it on display. The house screeches as Daichi steps farther into it. Sounds of gushing water and crackly flames filter through the helmet and abuse Daichi’s ears. His breathing is limited and his skin is boiling under the suit but he keeps walking, listening for any distressed noises. A picture frame drops and shatters onto the ground, briefly frightening Daichi. The glass instantaneously begins to melt. Carefully, Daichi follows the father’s directions and finds the living room, teased by smoke and soot. A growl grabs his attention and his eyes dart toward it: a siamese cat roosting upon a piano. Daichi takes one step in its direction and it jumps into his arms, hissing and clawing at him. In spite of the entire situation he’s in, Daichi chuckles, and wraps his arms around the cat protectively before exiting the house.

At the end of his impulsive feat, Daichi is met with his squadron. The fire has been extinguished and every resident of the house is safe and alive. Koutarou helps Daichi remove the respiratory apparatus.

“That was incredibly stupid and irrational,” Tooru says.

“I know.” The cat seems to like him better now that his mask is discarded. “But I couldn’t let that little boy down.”

“Ever the hero, aren’t ya, Captain?” Shinsuke hums, patting his shoulder.

“Please don’t call me that,” Daichi groans, his cheeks flushing. He parts from his squadron before having to face any more embarrassment.

“My cat!” the little boy cheers, making a beeline for Daichi. Daichi crouches down with the cat in his arms, held gently and securely.

“He’s alive, but I’m unsure of how much smoke he’s inhaled,” Daichi tells the boy’s parents after he has given the boy the cat. “The paramedics will find a veterinarian.” When informing the parents of this, he ensures that the little boy can’t hear him, “I can’t promise his survival past rescuing him. I did what I could.”

The mother is the one who thanks him. “Please, you’ve done so much. Thank you, I don’t know why you risked that much for a cat, especially at the state the house is in.”

He watches the boy hug his cat, innocent and happy about the safety of his companion. Daichi knows, wholeheartedly, of what compelled him to do this. “It’s still a life, ma’am. There was a chance and I had to take it.”

***

“You named her _Newspaper?”_ Koushi laughs around the rim of his mug, sipping at a disgusting brew of fresh black coffee. Daichi cringes at the thought of drinking coffee without sugar or cream.

“It was the first thing to come to mind,” Daichi says, abashed. “Besides, Shinbun is kind of cute. Right, Shin-chan?” Shinbun purrs as Daichi scratches a spot behind her ear, exactly where she likes it.

Koushi laughs once more and sets down his mug. He shifts on the couch where he sits, swinging his legs up and letting them rest sideways on top of one another. He puts his elbow on the armrest and places his cheek in his palm, watching Daichi play with Shinbun on the floor.

For two weeks, Daichi has been visiting Shinbun and spending time with Koushi every evening. Daichi brings food for Shinbun and takeout for Koushi—anything spicy, when he learns it’s his favourite. He would offer to cook but he stops by Koushi’s place right after work, having no time to do so. It’s peaceful, Koushi’s company. He’s sweet and bubbly and _mischievous_ , never dithering when it comes to making fun of Daichi. It makes him laugh, every time. Koushi makes him laugh.

“I seriously think my students could think up a better name than that, and they’re all a hundred years younger than you.”

Daichi chortles, Koushi grins devilishly. “Yes, because I am a hundred years old.”

“You certainly act like it!”

“You’re unbearable,” Daichi says, laying down on the floor, letting the kittens use him as a playground.

Koushi mirrors the movement but lays on his stomach instead. His face is smushed against his elbow and his hair is falling into his eyes and Daichi wants to reach up to tuck the loose strands behind his ear so that it doesn’t cover the mole on his cheek. But he can’t, because of the kittens, and he doesn’t try anyway because the thought of doing so makes him blush, furiously.

“Why so red, Daichi?” Koushi hums.

“Nothing.”

“Sure.”

While the cats grapple and play, it hits him, for some reason. Daichi still hasn’t told Koushi about his occupation. Koushi never asked about his job so Daichi never said anything, even after Koushi went on rants about school and how some of the other teachers don’t even care about their students’ educations. He always listened, asking frequent questions to engage himself, but he never spoke about himself. Not that he minds.

“I saved a cat from a house fire the other week,” Daichi says, although it comes out more boastful than it does casual.

“Why am I not surprised?” Koushi replies playfully. He thinks Daichi’s joking.

“I’m a firefighter. There was a little boy there, thankfully unharmed,” Daichi explains, sitting up. He leans his head against the armrest, right by Koushi’s face. “It was his cat, he wanted me to get it for him. So I did. You should’ve seen the look on his face, I couldn’t say no.”

It’s silent for a beat, ignoring the kittens’ mewls. Koushi simply looks at Daichi, intimidating and intense. _“Agh!”_ Koushi finally says, burying his face into a pillow. His voice is muffled when he exclaims, “You are so frustrating, Daichi! You can’t do that to a man!”

Confusion only cracks the surface of emotions Daichi feels right now. “What did I do?”

“I don’t know, be a charming hero who saves kittens from house fires and ten-story buildings!”

Daichi’s blush only grows harsher, spreading up to the tips of his ears and down his neck. “Stop that,” he fights timidly.

“Unfair!” Koushi huffs and punches Daichi in the arm, then groans.

“What now?” Daichi whines, holding his arm in retaliation. _Koushi can pack a punch,_ noted.

“It’s true! Your wife must be so lucky, being able to be married to such a hero.” Koushi twists around and drapes over the couch dramatically, holding the back of his hand over his forehead and shutting his eyes, feigning a faint.

Embarrassingly enough, Daichi has never really had a partner. In high school, he had a girlfriend, a sweet girl named Yui, but it clearly didn’t work out. The time they had together was nice, having shared his first official date and kiss with her. They held hands, visited shrines together on New Years, and practiced volleyball—having been on their school’s teams. But by the end of their sixth month together, they mutually came to terms with how _friendly_ their relationship was. Only a sliver of what they had was romantic, and it only hurt Daichi a little bit when they broke up. However in university, he broadened his options. His hookups were sparse but he had a handful of them, both with men and women. The fleeting relationships he had during his early twenties were fun, but nowhere were they near intimate or romantic.

Albeit his pathetic love life, being single hasn’t been a problem for Daichi. Especially with his unpredictable job and full schedule, he doesn’t even have time for himself let alone another person. It’s admittedly lonely, having to come home to a cold, empty apartment every night. But after meeting Koushi, it has been a little less lonely.

“I don’t have a wife,” Daichi clarifies, far too quickly. “Or anything else.”

“What?” Koushi says, sounding suspiciously relieved. “Out of all the things you’ve told me, that’s the least convincing.”

“I’m serious. I haven’t had a girlfriend since high school and I only ever hooked up with people during university. I’m lame, aren’t I?”

“Only a little.” Koushi squints and holds his pointer finger and thumb up, leaving a tiny space between his fingertips. “Let me guess. You’re one of those guys who’s married to his job,” he deadpans.

Daichi huffs, “Red-handed.”

 _“Hmph_. Glad I could steal you from your wife for a little bit, then.”

The amount of which Koushi is correct is upsettingly high. Work has been the most constant thing in his life, all two and a little-over-than-half decades he’s been alive for. While he was in the process of being raised as a kid, he was raising his siblings at the same time. In high school he was knighted as the captain of his volleyball team, giving him responsibility over an entire group of teenagers, and that title stuck. Now, as the captain of a firefighting squadron his responsibilities are enhanced, more immensely than they ever were during volleyball games. He has other people’s lives in the security of his hands and he will let nothing harm them. The thing is, Daichi _likes_ working. It’s all he’s ever known and it’s still all he knows. He never declines an opportunity to work. But work... work can’t possibly be forever.

“She doesn’t mind.”

They both laugh this time, Daichi’s deep chuckle combined with Koushi’s sonorous chirp. This, the sound of their laughs intertwined, is the most natural thing Daichi has ever heard.

***

On one evening at around supper time, Daichi hears a knock on his door. It’s one of those far and few nights Daichi has to his own solitude, but of course, nothing ever goes his way.

He places his chopsticks down with a grumble and wipes his mouth, ridding it of any straggling pieces of rice. “One second!” he announces with forced kindness to the visitor, uncrossing his legs and standing from the coffee table he was seated at. Traipsing to the door, he quickly checks the time on his phone before answering.

A giddy grin tugs at his lips when he opens the door. Maybe things do go his way. “Suga. Hi,” he says, wistfully.

“Hi,” Koushi responds, fondly. “I was wondering if I could ask a favour.”

“Of course! What is it?”

“Well,” Koushi begins, throwing his hands up to gesture with his anecdote, “the school was supposed to have an assembly this Friday but the guys—the _bastards—_ who were supposed to come cancelled last minute. It was about self-defence and I really think it would’ve been good for the kids but we can’t have that anymore. So the teacher’s council were debating our options and I blurted out that I knew somebody that could potentially come.”

“...Me?” says Daichi, oblivious as ever.

“Yes, you. Because you’re a firefighter, remember? I was thinking, of course only if you guys could come, maybe some of your boys could give each class a presentation on fire safety. Interact with the kids, keep them level-headed.”

A genius is what Sugawara Koushi is. Daichi’s grin only grows bigger at the proposition—Daichi and his squad, educating children on how to keep themselves safe during a fire, it’s a dream come true. “I’d love to! I can check in with the chief but I doubt he’ll say no. I can bring two of my men with me. We’ll bring along gear and some equipment, too.”

Daichi never knew that his smile was contagious but the grin on Koushi’s face is evidence of it. Koushi smiles from ear to ear, pink lips framing white teeth. His cheeks are tinted pink and his eyes are crinkled at the corners, his signature mole nearly disappearing under the wrinkles. “Thank you!” Koushi squeals, jumping forward to loop Daichi into a hug. His arms hook around Daichi’s neck and Daichi is _flabbergasted,_ standing stiffly for a moment before melting into Koushi’s embrace. He places his hands on the small of Koushi’s back, palms brushing the soft fabric of his cardigan.

“You know,” Daichi says into Koushi’s neck, “maybe we could arrange a field trip? I don’t exactly know how they work but the station is a pretty interesting place. The kids’ll have a blast looking at the trucks.”

It’s Koushi who pulls away first. He untangles his arms from Daichi’s neck and drops his hands to rest upon Daichi’s chest, broad and strong. Daichi’s hands slide to grip at Koushi’s waist. “Yes!” He nods, rapidly. “I can talk to the dean about that. The kids will love it! We’ll schedule it sometime but I’ll tell the council you’re set for Friday. Thank you again, Daichi. Really. This means a lot.”

“I know. It shows how much you care about those kids, it’s really sweet.” Daichi doesn’t realize how _soft_ his voice has gone. It’s low and relaxed and Koushi is so close that perhaps he was able to taste Daichi’s words. Daichi blinks and coughs, politely removing his hands from Koushi’s body and folding them behind his back. “I’ll, uh... I’ll keep you posted.”

The smile on Koushi’s face falters. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. Come see Shinbun soon, m’kay? She misses you.” There is something unspoken there, Daichi can tell.

“Yes. I will, soon. I miss her too, but I’ve had a lot more paperwork to do since there was a big collision we had to secure a couple of days ago. But I promise to see you on Friday, alright?”

“Alright. Good night, Daichi. And clean your face.”

As Koushi leaves with a smirk, Daichi dumbly pats around his face to find whatever Koushi was speaking of. At the bottom of his lip is a measly grain of rice, now stuck to his ring finger. He flicks it away, watching it topple to the welcome carpet by his door. It’s a small little thing, long gone once it hits the ground, nowhere to be seen. He wonders how Koushi saw it.

***

Bokuto Koutarou is unsurprisingly amazing with kids. The moment Daichi had broken the news to the squadron, after confiding with Ukai and getting approval from him, Koutarou _begged_ to help with the fire safety presentation. Daichi couldn’t say no to him, with his pleading golden eyes and wobbly smile. Yuuji had asked to come along too, and the others agreed that he and Koutarou were Daichi’s best bet when it comes to wrangling children.

A class of around twenty eight-year-olds surround Koutarou, Daichi, and Yuuji. All three of them sport their firefighting gear, dressed head to toe in a fire-resistant suit, heavy-duty boots, and bright yellow helmets that the kids can’t take their eyes off of.

“Does anybody know what to do when there’s a bunch of smoke in the room?” Koutarou inquires animatedly, flippantly waving his gloved hands in the air.

The kids stare at them vacantly, whispering amongst themselves. None of them reply.

“That’s okay! That’s why we’re here,” says Daichi with a smile. The firefighters all crouch, their suits crunching with the friction, and the kids watch them with curious eyes.

“Think of the smoke as balloons,” Koutarou offers, ever cheerful. “Very bad balloons! You don’t want to touch them, okay? Balloons like to go up.” From somewhere Daichi doesn’t see, Yuuji pulls out a bag of inflated balloons. Yuuji and Koutarou crawl to the middle of the classroom on their knees and unleash the balloons, the kids giggling and pointing at these grey balloons. The balloons float to the top of the classroom, up until they hit the ceiling.

“Just like the balloons, smoke likes to go up! And since the smoke goes up, you’ve gotta go down!” Koutarou continues, flopping onto his belly. The children gasp, Yuuji mimics him.

“Even if you think the room is only filled with smoke, there’s still some clean air. Since the smoke likes to go up, the clean air will be at the bottom. We breathe clean air because it’s good for our lungs, unlike smoke. Smoke will hurt your throat and that’s no good, right?” Daichi says, laying down on his stomach as well.

One of the kids sitting nearest to them raises his small hand. Daichi nods. “So... so we go down because we want the clean air?”

“Yes!” exclaims Koutarou. The boy gives him a toothy grin and Daichi ruffles his hair.

“Alright, can everyone get on their bellies? We’ve gotta stay as far away from the smoke,” Yuuji pauses to point at the balloons, “as we can.”

The classroom erupts into shuffling as the kids move to lay on their bellies. They squeal and giggle and Daichi hears a couple of them whine _go away smoke!_ which brings a smile to his face. From the ground, Daichi searches through the ocean of kids just to look up at Koushi, who’s standing by the classroom door biting down a grin. A paint-stained apron is tied loosely around his waist and his hair is tucked neatly behind his ears. Daichi scrunches his nose up at him and Koushi shakes his head fondly, dipping his chin down in an attempt to hide his laughter.

At the end of the presentation, the firefighters opt to mingle with the kids and ask any questions they’d like. They separate into three groups, one firefighter leading each lot of kids.

“How hot is fire?” Daichi hears a boy from Koutarou’s group ask.

“Very!” Koutarou replies, the entire gaggle of kids falling into a fit of cackles.

In the middle of Daichi’s group is a large red hose. The kids circle it, marvelling at the size and weight of it. Daichi picks it up and unravels it, draping it over the children’s laps like an inanimate snake. They all hold a part of the hose, Daichi with the metal end on his thigh.

“This isn’t your regular garden hose,” Daichi muses. “It’s a _very_ strong hose that we use to get rid of fires. It shoots water like a jet and it’s very powerful. If you think it’s heavy now, it’s a lot heavier when there’s water in it.”

The children all fiddle with the hose, all except one. A little girl with a round face and brown hair stares at Daichi, scrutinizing his every move. Daichi’s eyes widen when they lock gazes. She carefully removes the hose from her lap and waddles over to Daichi, standing taller than him from his seated position.

“Can I wear your helmet?” she asks confidently, hands folded over her yellow sundress.

“Oh,” says Daichi. Kids are so strange. “Of course. You’ll have to sit beside me so I can help you get it on, okay?”

She nods and plants herself down beside Daichi, her true size now shown. She is so small, yet her aura is determined and tough. Daichi feels like a sap for thinking about his little sister. Retrieving his helmet, he lifts it onto her tiny head and keeps a hand on it so that its entire weight doesn’t crush her. Her brows shoot up and her eyes trail the brim of the helmet and she giggles, clapping her hands. Her excitement captures the attention of her peers and before Daichi knows it, the whole group lines up to try his helmet on.

After the kids all try Daichi’s helmet on and Koutarou gives every single one of them a hug, they clean up. Koutarou collects the balloons, popping them with Yuuji in the parking lot, and Daichi tucks away the equipment they had brought into a large duffel bag. The kids are all outside for recess, their giggles and squawks subdued by the windows. A pair of hands smack his shoulders and he yelps with a jerk.

 _“Kuso!”_ Daichi curses, flailing. Behind him, Koushi collapses onto his knees and curls forward, barking laughter and tears. “You _bastard!”_

“You— _wheeze_ —got so scared! What in an— _wheeze_ —elementary school classroom could’ve possibly killed you?!” Koushi’s head digs into Daichi’s arm as he guffaws, losing his mind over Daichi’s spook.

 _“You,”_ Daichi groans, poking his finger at the spot between Koushi’s brows, “are living proof of what in this classroom could’ve killed me!” Koushi’s still reeling and Daichi is now his means of support. Koushi’s hands grasp his bicep to keep him upright and when Daichi moves, his grip only grows tighter. He turns his head to glance at Koushi, face an unflattering shade of scarlet and lips curved around an open-mouthed grin. Daichi _swoons_.

“Wow, Daichi. Imagine if the kids saw you! Scaredy cat,” Koushi manages when his laughter folds.

“I can’t believe this,” Daichi murmurs, shoving Koushi off his shoulder. He claps his hands over his face to veil his turmoil. The bright red tips of his ears give him away.

“Hey,” Koushi giggles, taking Daichi’s hands in his own. He moves his hands away from his face and beams at him. “You did really great today. All of you did.”

“Err, um, yes, ” Daichi stammers, because _Koushi is holding his goddamn hands_. “Thank you. It was fun!” He grimaces and his knees feel like they’re going to give out momentarily. _Daichi is malfunctioning_.

The expression Koushi wears is smug. “You’re so articulate, Daichi.”

“Shaddap!”

Koushi frees Daichi of any further humiliation by dropping his hands and shoving his own into the pockets of his apron. In Daichi’s hands is a fuzzy sensation. “Seriously. The kids loved you guys. You know that little girl, the first one to ask to wear your helmet? She doesn’t talk to anyone. You’re the first one to succeed with her. Even over me.”

Unbridled pride washes over Daichi, and that feeling is normally dubious for him. Daichi would have never known that the adamance that little girl had was a first for her if Koushi hadn’t told him. He spots her outside, playing with a skipping rope all on her own. Daichi just wants to hug her. “She reminds me of my little sister when she was that age.”

“You have a sister?”

“Mhm. She’s nineteen now, but still a baby in my eyes.”

Koushi’s brows knit upwards and his lips quiver as if he’s trying his hardest to combat a smile. “It‘s obvious that you’re good with kids.”

“Ah, really? I’d say Bokuto-kun is better with kids than I am...” Daichi rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, I guess I did help my parents out a lot when raising my younger brother and sister. I’m glad it worked out, then.”

It’s hard to catch but if Daichi’s hearing isn’t failing him, Koushi might’ve said _Daichi_ and _perfect_ in the same sentence while mumbling. Daichi swallows the hope.

“Please stop it before I die of a charm-overload,” Koushi groans.

“I’m just telling you the truth! I don’t go and tell everyone my life story.”

“Thank you for telling me I’m special but I’d also like to be alive for the field trip.”

Daichi shuts up but simpers, slinging the duffel bag over his shoulder. Outside, the fire truck waits.

***

Compared to a classroom, the fire station is a kingdom. It’s huge and spacious, an entire building dedicated to the craft of, well, firefighting. A giant garage is linked to the main quarters. The main quarters are separated into factions, housing the chief’s office, the kitchen, the locker rooms, a storage facility, a lounge, and the squadron’s cubicles. It’s comfortable, given the spontaneity of the job. In the garage, they hold the trucks along with equipment that is too big for the storage room. The garage, as of now, also functions as an educational playground for a class of bright eight-year-olds with residual excitement from the fire safety presentation that occurred the week prior.

“There are many tools in this truck. It may appear confusing but with the proper training and acquainting, the confusion will diminish,” says Wakatoshi to the children, his professionalism never wavering. He points at the different cubbies on the side of the truck.

“That’s why we’re going to explain things instead of just telling them that it’s confusing,” Tooru chirps behind gritted teeth, discomfort hidden under his pleasing expression. He stares menacingly at Wakatoshi but Wakatoshi is immovable.

At a distance, Daichi and Koushi watch the group. To Yuuji and Koutarou’s—especially Koutarou’s—demise, they were unable to lead the tour of the station. Yuuji had unfinished paperwork to complete and Koutarou was coupled with Shinsuke to run errands at another station. Wakatoshi proposed to lead the tour and Tooru argued that he had to help him because the kids would fall asleep otherwise. Tooru might have been right.

“They’re... far less enlightening than Terushima-kun and Bokuto-kun were, huh?” Koushi snorts, leaning in Daichi’s direction to whisper.

“You could say that,” Daichi chuckles. “I would’ve had Tetsurou come along but the chief needed something from him just as you guys arrived.”

“Tetsurou, hm? What’s he like?”

“A massive headache but better with kids than they are, that’s for sure.” Daichi and Koushi cover their mouths when laughing, childish and snooty.

Wakatoshi makes in-depth explanations of each tool and piece of equipment they use while Tooru cuts in to alter his descriptions for a child to easier understand. To Koushi and Daichi it’s hilarious, watching Tooru attempt to prevent himself from lashing out at Wakatoshi. Tooru, several times, had even looked to Daichi for a rescue. Daichi all but shrugged.

Tooru is saved by Tetsurou when his meeting with the chief finishes. He struts into the garage and the kids all say hello when he introduces himself. Wakatoshi greets him with a handshake and Daichi hears Tooru say _thank fucking god_ while turned away from the children. That makes Koushi and Daichi burst into another fit of stifled giggles.

The tour of the station is scheduled to span an hour. With Tetsurou now leading, he parades around the garage with the children in tow, interacting with them using charisma similar to Koutarou’s, but more grounded like Yuuji’s. He and Tooru make stupid quips and to their surprise, a bunch of the kids want to hold Wakatoshi’s hand. They all do end up holding his hand, but Wakatoshi stays silent and attentive the whole time.

“This is incredible,” Daichi mumbles, staring at a group of kids fawning over Wakatoshi like he’s a famous superhero. A few of the kids hang onto his forearm or the straps of his suit if they can’t hold his hand.

Koushi smirks. “Let’s copy them.”

“What?”

Koushi replies by hooking his arm around Daichi’s, yanking him close so that their shoulders and hips bump. Heat ignites beneath the skin of Daichi’s cheeks and his brows shoot upwards in shock. The smirk on Koushi’s face is even wider now with Daichi in shambles and he tugs Daichi along like a rag doll as the class explores the garage some more.

“For someone with a body like yours, you’re quite easy to lug around,” Koushi hums.

Daichi’s gaze flits between Koushi, the kids, and Tetsurou—who’s giving him a weird look. “A body like mine?” His heart races.

“You’re a firefighter and you’re letting an elementary school teacher pull you around like you’re a bag of feathers. I just think it’s cute.”

“Cute?”

“Can you do anything but repeat me?”

“Y-yeah,” Daichi stutters, recomposing. “I’m pretty sure I can lift you up with one arm.” He feels Koushi shudder against him.

“I’d like to test that theory sometime.”

Their... whatever that was, is interrupted by an alarm on Koushi’s phone, signalling the end of the tour. Daichi and Koushi untangle their arms and Koushi rounds up the children after telling them to thank the firefighters for the tour. The kids are ushered into the school bus when it arrives and Koushi waves from inside the vehicle. The bus begins to move and when Daichi lifts his arm to return the wave, it tingles, right where Koushi had held it.

***

Kuroo Tetsurou is hoarding every blanket in Daichi’s apartment. He is curled up on the couch, cocooned in a heap of quilts and sheets without a care. Shivering beside him, Daichi sits grumpily in his warmest pair of pyjamas.

“Can’t you share one? It’s not even that cold,” asks Daichi effortlessly.

“You live here, you should be used to your tundra of an apartment by now. You have to satisfy your guests. Give me a bite.” Tetsurou opens his mouth and Daichi tosses a fistful of popcorn in his face.

Daichi sighs and crosses his legs, resting his head on the blanket mountain Tetsurou has morphed into. Together they watch a horror movie, the television screen flickering in the darkness of the apartment. Tetsurou insisted on turning every light off for the ambiance.

“Why don’t you just cover the window? Newspaper and tape could probably work.”

Daichi snorts with his entire body. “Newspaper just gets wet. And I ran out of it anyway.”

“How did you run out of newspaper?”

“Don’t ask.”

The movie is more fun than it is scary. Tetsurou keeps laughing at the jump-scares and in result Daichi laughs with him. They complain about the irritating shrill of violins whenever a suspenseful moment happens and then about the horrible ending of the film.

“Can’t you ask the landlord to get someone to fix the window?” Tetsurou asks while heating up leftover takeout. The television screen is set to a neutral channel, flipping through generic photographs of landscapes.

“I’m rarely ever in my apartment anyway. I’m usually at work and my bedroom is warmer than the living space so I don’t bother.” Daichi grabs a bottle of water and takes a sip from it. He fights the urge to step on the tail of the blanket Tetsurou wears as a cape.

“Then get more blankets from your neighbour. God, I really want to see those cats.”

The mere thought of Koushi renders Daichi smitten and the thought of Shinbun makes his heart soft. “Suga’s busy marking schoolwork. I don’t want to bother him.”

“Suga, huh?” There’s a knowing smirk on Tetsurou’s face that Daichi wants to rip off. The microwave beeps and Tetsurou retrieves his food. “Ah, so he’s more than _Sugawara-sensei_ to you?”

“Yes,” Daichi says firmly. “He’s my neighbour and a friend.”

Tetsurou shovels a clump of noodles into his mouth. “Daichi, and be honest with me here, when was the last time you got laid? Hell, kissed someone?”

Water drizzles the counter as Daichi spits it out. Kuroo Tetsurou is the one person Daichi cannot lie to. The man is frustratingly perceptive and the fact that he’s Daichi’s oldest friend doesn’t help. In high school, he could always tell when Daichi was lying about a bombed test or a lost volleyball game no matter how clever Daichi’s cover story was. During college, he knew about every hookup Daichi ever had. When training as firefighters together, he always spotted the bags under Daichi’s eyes the mornings after he had spent all night reviewing lessons. With this, Daichi cannot lie despite how badly he wants to.

“I... don’t know. A while ago, I guess.” Daichi soaks up the water he had spat out with a rag.

“I swear it’s been years. Why don’t you just go at it with Sugawara-kun? You two were real cozy during the field trip— _ow!”_ A wet _smack_ resonates through the kitchen as Daichi slaps him with the rag, right on the nape of his neck. While Tetsurou is coddling his neck in pain, Daichi steals a bite from his noodles.

“We weren’t _cozy._ Nothing happened.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to the blush on your cheeks.”

Daichi shields his cheeks with his palms and glowers at Tetsurou, who grins like a feline. The idea of Koushi that way isn’t something Daichi has exactly _thought_ about avidly but the _feeling_ is more familiar than it is foreign. He knows he likes Koushi, amiably. He likes listening to him retell crazy stories about his fellow teachers while he plays with the cats. He likes the way his voice softens when he talks to his students. He likes how unapologetically snarky he can be around him, pinching his ears or his thighs and making him laugh all the same. He likes how long his hair is getting, grey strands framing his face like a silver picture frame encasing a painting. He especially likes the mole on his cheek, the mole he wants to brush with his thumb and plant a kiss upon.

“That’s unrelated,” Daichi mutters, staying put. If he walks away, his knees will buckle.

Tetsurou eats the rest of his food and throws out the box when he’s finished. “Whatever you say, captain. I just... I just want you to be happy, alright?”

“I am happy,” justifies Daichi.

“I know. But it doesn’t hurt to be happier.”

***

Daichi is under one of three fire trucks in the garage, tinkering with a pipe. His jumpsuit is tied at his waist, leaving his torso in a black tank top. Engine grease drips onto the skin of his arms. He twists a wrench and hums victoriously as the pipe stops leaking, but nearly brains himself under the truck when he feels a foot tapping at the sole of his boot.

While rolling out from under the truck he prepares a string of curses to direct at Tetsurou, who he had expected to be the one to disturb him. He pushes himself to his feet and opens his mouth to yell at Tetsurou because he’s told him _multiple_ times before not to interrupt when he’s doing mechanic work, but it isn’t his coworker who stands before him.

“Suga,” Daichi breathes, putting his arm down, which had an accusatory finger pointed straight at him.

“Sorry, Daichi!” Daichi swears Suga’s eyes were roaming his arms. He suddenly feels underdressed. “I just—I brought you lunch.”

Suga holds up a bento, swaddled neatly in blue fabric. A bashful grin splays upon Daichi’s lips. “I can’t possibly—”

 _“Take it._ I came down all the way here just to give it to you, it would be terrible of you not to,” says Suga firmly, and Daichi complies without another argument.

“Thank you,” Daichi says, his grease-coated fingers already inking the pristine fabric. “You caught me at an... interesting time.”

“Interesting is one way to call it,” Suga giggles, his attention locked on the truck. “I can finally _look_ at it, now that I don’t have a bunch of kids to watch over. It’s impressive.”

Setting the bento down onto a tool cart, Daichi grins proudly. “Yeah, it is. I’ve seen it countless times but it never fails to amaze me. It’s just... cool.” Daichi saunters over to Suga and fawns over the fire truck with him.

The truck stands magnificently before them, red metal glimmering in the light that pours in from the open garage door. A horizontal white stripe runs down the equator of the truck, circling the exterior of it. Silver plating runs across the edges of the truck, glinting brightly. A large hose is tacked to the side of it like a rolled-up whip. A retractable ladder sits grandly on top of the vehicle, folded and compressed.

“Can I see what it looks like inside?”

Daichi smiles. “Of course.”

The truck door swings open when Daichi grabs it. It’s a steep climb so Daichi has to hold Koushi’s waist in order to hoist him into the seat. He ignores how warm his hands get when he lets go. Walking to the other side of the truck, Daichi hops into the passenger seat.

Numerous unlit buttons litter the inside of the truck. The partition lodged between the seats has two joysticks built into it along with sundry switches and more unlit buttons. On the dashboards are communication devices and telephones along with a digital screen in the middle displaying the gasoline amount, speed, and a blueprint of the truck itself.

Koushi sits before the steering wheel. Daichi watches as his eyes light up at every component of the vehicle, so satisfied by something Daichi sees on a day to day basis. “This is so much cooler than rulers and pencils.”

“Debatable. Pencils are pretty useful.”

“I said _cooler,_ not more useful.”

Daichi rolls his eyes and glosses over the controls on the dashboard. Koushi follows and listens, nodding accordingly with each piece of information Daichi gives him. His concentration is profound and Daichi notices that the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth when he focuses. It’s adorable.

“How do you get the ladder to go up?” Koushi asks after Daichi tells him about number codes.

“Oh. The joystick for that is beside you and I’d have to turn the engine on.”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No, I can reach from here.”

Daichi has to hunch his back when sitting on the partition. He snakes his arm around Koushi’s back and slips it under his arm to reach for the ignition. His chest presses against Koushi’s shoulder as he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life. They sit cheek to cheek and Daichi zeroes in on the mole under Koushi’s eye and his stomach flutters at how close it is. He blinks and remembers what he’s doing and grabs the joystick for the ladder. He wraps his digits around the handle and clicks a button with his thumb, pivoting his wrist back. Above them the ladder shifts mechanically, coils clicking as it expands. Koushi sticks his head out of the window and _beams,_ grinning widely. His hair bounces when he giggles and points frantically at the ladder, climbing farther out the window just to get a better view.

“That’s so cool! You’re so lucky you get to see this every day!”

Daichi’s eyes don’t move from Koushi’s face. “I am pretty lucky.”

After teaching him how to use the joystick, Daichi allows Koushi to return the ladder to its retracted condition. The ladder clicks and he pulls his head back into the truck. When he turns, he is face to face with Daichi. Laughter fades and their bodies still. From the corner of his eye Daichi spots one of Koushi’s hands rising and when he fixes his gaze back onto Koushi his face is somehow closer. And it’s getting closer with every breath they take. Daichi’s eyes drop to Koushi’s lips, soft and pink and parted, and he wants to lean in to get a taste—he stops himself. Pulls back. Stares at his lap.

“Captain.”

Daichi jerks away, even farther, from Koushi as if he touched burning metal. He scampers back into the passenger seat and finds Wakatoshi standing beside the truck.

“Uh, yeah?” he says with a gulp.

Wakatoshi doesn’t acknowledge Koushi’s presence. “The chief requires your paperwork on the car accident from last week. He sent me to remind you.”

“Shit, yeah. I have it finished. I’ll go fetch it. Thanks, Ushijima-san.”

Wakatoshi leaves with a nod and Daichi exits the truck. Koushi clambers out on his own and meets Daichi by the tool cart.

“I’ll let you meet with your chief. I took up too much of your time anyway,” says Koushi coyly. He pockets his hands into his jacket.

“You didn’t, really. I promise.”

Koushi nods. “A-alright. I’ve gotta go anyway. I’ll see you later, m’kay?” He bows and skips towards the garage door and once he’s at a decent distance he shouts, “Eat your lunch!”

“I will!”

The paperwork is filed neatly in Daichi’s cubicle. He delivers it to Ukai and apologizes for the late conveyance before reentering the garage. He grabs the bento and washes his hands and when he eats with his squadron in the kitchen, he dreads his lunch.

***

A bento box, the fourth one Koushi has sent, sits delicately under Daichi’s arm. After watching Koushi leave, Daichi sits on one of the benches in the garage to eat instead of heading to the kitchen.

Like clockwork, Koushi brings Daichi a homemade bento every Saturday at lunchtime. It’s a domestic gesture that Daichi had roped himself into a month ago when Koushi brought that first bento. Most days, including right now, Daichi thinks about the moment they shared in the truck that afternoon, how close their bodies were. He wants to blame Wakatoshi for interrupting, but it was he who stopped himself first. Daichi unfolds the bento wrap and eats, disgruntled.

The serenity of eating a delicious meal alone ends when Tetsurou waltzes out of the kitchen and plunks down beside Daichi on the bench. Daichi groans. “What do you want?” he says, voice muffled and cheek stuffed with food.

“Aw, I didn’t get to catch your boyfriend again? How’s his cooking today?”

“Fine,” Daichi grumbles. He backtracks when he spots the smirk on Tetsurou’s face and fully processes his words. “H-he’s not my boyfriend.”

A new voice butts into the conversation. “Suga-kun was here?” Koutarou throws his head left and right in search of Koushi. Daichi feels a migraine blooming. He tries to ignore them and eat.

“Daicchan, you seriously have to ask Suga-chan to bring us food too. It’s just rude that he shows up with an amazing lunch for you but none for us!” says Tooru, leaning against one of the trucks with a canned drink in his limp hand. The migraine is only getting worse.

“Why are you all here?” Daichi asks, staring daggers at each of their smug faces. Mostly smug, Koutarou is the only one being genuine.

“Leave him alone.” Shinsuke briefly pops his head in from the kitchen before vanishing again.

“We missed you at the lunch table,” it’s Yuuji now, plopping beside him. He is now sandwiched by Tetsurou and Yuuji on a tiny bench. Fantastic.

“Kita-san!” Daichi shouts, into Tetsurou’s ear. “Please come back!” Yuuji’s ear. They cover their ears and recoil from Daichi. “Heh.”

Movement resonates from the kitchen and Shinsuke, along with Wakatoshi tailing him, comes to Daichi’s aid as a mediator. He bats Yuuji and Tetsurou away, he and Wakatoshi taking their seats. Daichi mouths a thank you to them while Tetsurou stands with Tooru and Yuuji sits on the floor with Koutarou.

“Why are you guys bothering me?” Daichi asks, particularly to the guys not sitting on the bench with him. He takes a bite from the vegetables.

“An intervention!” Yuuji chimes, holding a finger up.

Tooru nods. “We’re tired of you making goo-goo eyes at Suga-chan and not doing shit about it.”

“He’s been bringing you lunch for a month now. Can’t you at least thank him with a kiss?” Tetsurou says, taking a sip from Tooru’s drink. Tooru smacks his arm.

“What? I thought you guys were dating,” Koutarou chirps, and at the same time, Wakatoshi states, “I thought you two were married.”

Daichi is done with lunch. The only thing that will satisfy his stomach is water and ibuprofen. “Can we _please,_ ” Daichi glares at them to emphasize the plea, “not talk about my love life?”

Yuuji, Tetsurou, Tooru, and Koutarou all open their big fat mouths to speak but they are shut down by Shinsuke. “Daichi,” Shinsuke starts after silently berating the four of them with a single look. “I’m going to be as straightforward as I can, okay?” he pauses to place a comforting hand on Daichi’s shoulder. “Yer being an idiot. Yer a damn _firefighter,_ bravest one we all know as a matter of fact, and of all things yer scared about it’s asking a guy on a date?”

Shinsuke’s words hit him like a boulder. He had never considered being scared of something romantic with Koushi but now that it has been voiced, the truth is out in the open. Koushi hasn’t been exactly timid about his perception of Daichi—he brings him lunch every week, for god’s sake. At first he thought it was Koushi simply being cordial but if six of the greatest heroes he knows can read right through him, he must be wrong. For months, Daichi has been too comfortable with what he and Koushi have. With that, he’s missing out on what _more_ he and Koushi _could_ have.

Burying his face into the bento wrap, Daichi hunches over his lap. He grits his teeth and fists the fabric then lets it drop to the floor. A large hand plants itself on Daichi’s back, reassuring.

_It doesn’t hurt to be happier._

This is a chance he isn’t going to stop himself from taking anymore. It’s worth it, Koushi is worth it. Daichi sits up.

***

The bathroom door is wide open. Inside, Koushi props himself up on the sink to stare at his reflection, his nose a centimetre away from the mirror. “I need to cut my hair,” Koushi hums. His silver hair falls past his jaw now, long enough to tie in a low ponytail.

From Koushi’s living room, Daichi sits on the floor and peeks into the bathroom. Shinbun is asleep in his lap and his fingers thread through her fur habitually. Daichi’s response is a gut reaction, “Don’t.”

Koushi plants his feet flat onto the tile floor and spins on his heel, hair twirling with the motion. “Well, why not?” he coerces, stepping out of the bathroom. He leans against the door jamb with his arms crossed and brows raised.

Daichi clears his throat and blushes, holding back an excuse. He doesn’t do that anymore. “Because it looks nice like that. I think it looks nice.”

This time, Koushi blushes. His cheeks flare, stark crimson glowing underneath grey strands. “Shut up.”

A smirk threatens Daichi’s lips; he lets it take over. “C’mere.”

Without another question, Koushi follows Daichi’s demand and plops onto the floor to sit cross-legged. “Hi,” he mumbles shyly.

Daichi smiles. “Hi.”

“You made me walk _all_ the way over here. Tell me what you want.” A fiery look washes over Koushi’s face, more determined than usual. His eyes are half-lidded and his cheeks are still rosy and his knees bump Daichi’s own, a purposeful touch. It’s electric.

“Turn around,” Daichi says, his voice husky.

The blush on Koushi’s face reddens but again he does as he’s told, shifting in his spot to turn around. His back faces Daichi.

Reaching forward, Daichi combs his fingers through Koushi’s hair. It’s soft, softer than he could’ve imagined, between his fingers. He hears Koushi sigh. His fingertips roam around Koushi’s scalp, nails lightly tracing his skin in feather-like touches. Daichi scoots closer and pulls his hands from Koushi’s head to drop them onto the crook between his neck and his shoulders. He lets them sit there for a while, teasing, before returning to his hair. He parts Koushi’s hair into three sections, holding them carefully in his hands. Using his fingers, Daichi weaves the bundles together and interlocks them with well-polished technique. Koushi lifts his arm up, knowing what he’s doing, and points at the hair tie on his wrist with his other hand. Daichi rolls the elastic off of his hand, their palms brushing, and knots it into Koushi’s hair. The braid falls onto the nape of his neck.

“You never told me you knew how to braid hair,” says Koushi, bringing his hand up to feel the braid. His fingertips pad carefully along his woven hair.

“Thank Sawamura Sayuri for that,” Daichi chuckles. He resumes petting Shinbun after she meows at him, asking for his attention.

“Your sister?” Koushi drops his hand and uses it to turn himself back around. A stubborn strand of hair breaks loose from the braid. Daichi tucks it behind his ear.

“Yeah. Now you don’t have to worry about it getting in your face.”

“You’d braid my hair for me every day?”

“I could do that.” Daichi’s chest contracts and his stomach swarms in butterflies. He thinks about it, Koushi in the morning, grumpy and begging for a cup of his appalling black coffee. His hair would be a bird’s nest and while they sit together at the dinner table, Daichi would brush it until it runs smooth. Koushi would whine about how Daichi keeps pulling it and Daichi would simply laugh and threaten to let him go to work looking like a mess. He wants it, wants the sight of Koushi waking up, wants the sound of his scratchy morning voice, wants the feel of his hair between his fingers. He wants Koushi. _Take the chance, take the chance, take the chance._ “On one condition.”

Koushi quirks a brow, curious and desperate. “And what is it?”

“Go on a date with me. Tomorrow night. I’ll cook for you, at my place.” Now, Daichi is the one blushing like a fool.

The smile that blossoms onto Koushi’s face is unlike any other. His eyes fill with stars, his teeth shine, his cheeks saturate a pretty pink, and Daichi wants to kiss him. “I can do that.”

Below them, Shinbun stirs in Daichi’s lap. She mewls, as if to say _finally_. Daichi couldn’t agree more.

***

It has only been five minutes since Daichi started cooking and he already has a stain on his shirt. Pork broth simmers in a pot on the stove and an ugly wet patch tarnishes the fabric of Daichi’s white blouse. He groans and unbuttons the shirt, tossing it violently against the wall before picking it up and stomping into his bedroom to change.

This is Daichi’s first date in years. It’s a miserable thing to admit but Daichi, quite frankly, doesn’t care one bit. He has other things to worry about, like finding a new shirt.

Haphazardly, he scours his closet for a decent top that matches his black trousers. He browses through the hangers and pauses several times, inspecting a couple of shirts before passing them when spotting a wrinkle. To Daichi’s luck, every single one of his shirts happens to be majorly creased in some way. The only thing that isn’t is the blandest item of clothing he owns: a plain white t-shirt. He looks at the time and sighs, reluctantly tugging it on and tucking it into his pants. While scrutinizing his outfit in the mirror he puts his nicest belt on for good measure. The shirt hugs his torso flatteringly, which is enough for him. He returns to the kitchen.

The soup smells delicious. Its aroma wafts through the kitchen and makes his stomach grumble when he gets a whiff, and at this moment he thanks his mother for teaching him this recipe. He fetches a cutting board from the drying rack and sets it upon the kitchen counter in preparation for the vegetables. He gathers fresh green onions, bok choy, and mushrooms. As he grabs a knife, Koushi’s patterned telltale knock rings through the foyer. Daichi’s cheeks hurt from smiling.

“You’re gonna murder me,” Koushi cackles when he steps inside.

Daichi glances at the knife in his hand and snorts. “Sorry,” he apologizes, setting it back down onto the counter. Before he can properly greet Koushi, he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

“I wasn’t talking about the knife.”

“Oh my god. Please just let me cook.”

Koushi whines but pares himself from Daichi anyway. Daichi grabs the knife once more and begins chopping the green onions, periodically checking on the broth.

“How was work?” asks Daichi. _Chop, chop, chop._

“It was alright. Same old stuff. But dear god, the teacher council was annoying.” Koushi sits on a stool on the other side of the counter.

“Oh?” Daichi is intrigued. He tosses the minced green onions into a bowl for later and moves onto the mushrooms. “Enlighten me.”

“Okay, so I only told Asahi about our date but apparently Noya heard too and he wouldn’t fucking shut up about it.” An angry blush spreads across Koushi’s cheeks, his irritation thick. Daichi knows of Asahi, Koushi’s closest friend, but is unacquainted with whoever Noya is. “Then the whole council found out and everybody kept teasing me! You’re lucky that you’re such a hunk, Daichi. I wouldn’t tolerate this much embarrassment for anyone.”

Daichi’s laughter syncopates with the metal clack of the knife against plastic. “I faced my embarrassment at the station last week. It’s a matter of time that you did too.”

“Aww,” Koushi coos, stealing a mushroom and popping it into his mouth. “You talk about me at work?”

“Quit acting like you don’t bring me lunch every weekend and talk to my squadron. Bokuto-kun literally asked about you when everyone was tormenting me.” At Daichi’s dismay, Koushi sticks his tongue out. Daichi rolls his eyes.

They chat while Daichi prepares the ramen, slicing vegetables and meat and eggs. First, he pours noodles into the soup to cook, then he adds the vegetables. With a hand on his hip he stirs the broth.

“Can you put the spoon down for just a minute?” says Koushi from behind him, his fingers toying with his belt loops and chin balanced on his shoulder. Koushi is superbly impatient, trying to distract him at any given moment. Daichi sighs, making sure it’s excessively dramatic, and puts the spoon down after responsibly lowering the stove heat. He turns around to meet Koushi, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He squeezes and Koushi yelps. If Koushi wants to play a game of remorseless affection, Daichi will play fair.

“Happy?” Daichi snickers.

“Yes. Very.” Koushi tips forward and plants his chin on Daichi’s chest, looking up at him. His hair is wavy, textured by the braid he had given him the night before. Cute. “It smells really good, by the way.”

“Mom’s recipe. It tastes even better.”

“Hm. I wonder if you have the same principle.”

Daichi went through a number of stages before—and now during—this date. The devising of this date was the most panicked stage, Daichi having had a multitude of crises over outfits, what food to cook, how clean his apartment was, if his hair was styled fashionably, and many more stupid little things. When finally getting a grip on things, the stage he entered was tranquil and reassuring with a sprinkle of confidence. Koushi’s suggestive proposal is what lulls him into another stage, this one hot and confusing and alluring.

The lascivious smile on Koushi’s face is more than enough to reel Daichi in. He slides his hands from Koushi’s jeans and runs them along his back, up, up, up until they cup the nape of his neck. Daichi leans forward, tilts Koushi’s face towards his, and dives, pressing their lips fervently together. Koushi moans into his mouth and Daichi swallows it, slipping one hand down to his waist. Koushi slings his arms around Daichi’s neck and pulls him impossibly closer, dragging him backwards. They move from the stove to the counter, and from the counter to the fridge.

“Verdict?” Daichi mutters against his lips, slotting his thigh between Koushi’s legs. His knee hits the fridge.

“Mouthwatering,” Koushi hums, his voice hitching when Daichi rubs his thigh against him.

“You don’t mind kissing on the first date?” Daichi finally tests Koushi’s theory by hooking a single arm around his waist and lifting him up easily, propping him on his hip. Koushi gasps.

“This was long overdue, Dai. The date, the kiss, and you carrying me.”

He isn’t wrong.

Once his point is proven, Daichi permits himself to use both arms when carrying Koushi. He clasps his hands under Koushi’s thighs and lets them wrap around his waist, their clothed chests flush. Daichi totters around the kitchen as he attempts to maintain the kiss, carrying Koushi, and a steady pathway to the couch. They giggle whenever Daichi bumps into furniture, their shared laughs a fragment of innocence among their heated kisses. It’s sweet.

At the couch, Daichi gently lays Koushi on his back. He crawls over him and pulls away from the kiss, hovering above his face. Beneath him, Koushi is vulnerable. His lips are kissed pink and his cheeks match the colour of his mouth. Daichi stops for a moment to cup his cheek, tenderly. He brushes his thumb upon his cheekbone before planting a soft kiss onto his mole, smiling against his skin.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Daichi murmurs, cradling Koushi’s face in his hand.

Koushi squirms under him and nuzzles into Daichi’s shoulder to hide. “That was so cute, you’re so cute, Daichi.”

“Says the one hiding in my shoulder.”

“You’re unbearable!”

“That’s my line!”

Daichi sits them both back up. They lock lips and Daichi’s uncontrollable hands slip under Koushi’s turtleneck. Koushi nods and Daichi pulls the shirt over his head and once it’s completely off, a fierce shiver rattles through Koushi’s body. He whips his head behind him.

“You seriously need to fix that.”

The incriminating window taunts them. Daichi removes his own shirt. “I’ll keep you warm, then.”

Koushi grins then kisses him again, fitting their lips together. Daichi boosts Koushi into his lap and turns to face him away from the window. A chilly breeze hits his bare skin; the window is still broken and stubborn as ever but Daichi, for the first time, doesn’t feel cold.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked reading! my twitter is @naranvia, come yell with me about haikyuu!


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